


You got a taste of sweet divine

by Backonefish



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Childhood Friends, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backonefish/pseuds/Backonefish
Summary: Five times Bucky feeds Steve chocolate, and one time Steve fed Bucky
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	You got a taste of sweet divine

**Author's Note:**

> As always, title is a BSB lyric

1.

It’s a hot day. Sweat is rolling down the back of Steve's neck. It’s making his shirt stick to his body and a bit difficult to breathe. The boys in the park have removed their shirts and Steve is tempted to join them. But he knows the sun will make him burn and he can hear his Ma’s voice scolding him, so he leaves his shirt on. It makes him stand out horribly.

He inches closer to the boys who are about to start a ball game. Normally, he wouldn’t bother, but he sees the boy from yesterday – Bucky – who had helped him fight off McNally. Not that he needed the help. After Bucky had dusted off his pants, he shook Steve’s hand like the grown ups, had said they were friends, and to come play with him in the park.

Steve just hadn’t expected to share his new friend with the other boys.

Of course, it’s not like Bucky is his _friend._ People say things all the time that they don’t really mean.

But Bucky _did_ smile and wave at him from across the field, so maybe, he meant it? Just a little bit.

In his musings, he misses the teams getting called. He only realises it when each team huddles together and he’s left out. His neck and ears burn for an entirely different reason than the sun.

“Hey, what about Steve?” Bucky’s head pokes out from a huddle on the right.

“Aw, shucks, he can’t even run a minute,” Geoffrey protests. He’s 10, a whole two years older than Steve and everyone listens to him. “He can’t play a full ball game.” 

Steve watches Bucky frown and he hurriedly turns around. He scrunches up his eyes tight, to take away the pressure, and walks away. Stupid boys and their stupid faces. He doesn’t want their friendship. Especially not Bucky’s. What's a Bucky anyway? It's a stupid name.

He’s made it past the corner, kicking angrily at the brick, his toe smarting in the process. He doesn't even like ball.

“Wait up. Hey, Rogers!”

Steve freezes for a split second and then picks up his pace. No good has ever come from running into people on the street and his Ma will kill him if he gets into another fight.

“Steve!” A hand tugs at his shoulder.

“Get off me,” Steve turns around, fists raised.

It’s Bucky, his hair flopping across his forehead, face red and shiny with sweat. Steve’s fists falter for a second before he tightens them again.

“Oh, put those away,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “’M not gonna fight you.”

Steve drops his fists but glares. “What you want? Why aren’t you playing ball?”

“Didn’t want to,” Bucky shrugs.

Steve narrows his eyes at him. He doesn't believe him. “Okay.”

“My pa gave me some money to spend,” Bucky says excitedly, falling in step with Steve who has started to walk away. “Wanna split some candy with me?”

Steve’s confused. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why’re you hanging with me? I’m no good for sports and I get sick easy. No one likes me. You don’t gotta pretend.” There's no pity. It's just the truth.

Bucky punches his shoulder, and somehow, it doesn’t hurt. “I like you,” he says, simply. Like it answers all the questions in the world. “So, you coming to the shops, or what?”

“Yeah. Ok.”

Bucky buys a chocolate bar, the milky one with smooth, creamy chocolate. It’s so hot that by the time they get to some shady steps, the chocolate has already begun to melt, and it smudges all over their fingers and mouths. They both get a talking to for the mess they’ve made, but Steve doesn’t mind.

It was worth it.

2.

It’s almost a pitch-black night in this German forest. The little moonlight not obscured by clouds, is hidden by the canopy of leaves. The fire is fading away and Steve volunteers to feed it because his super soldier vision allows for better sight in the dark. 

That, and he’s hoping to get away from the Commandos. So they don’t hear his stomach growling.

He learned quickly that he needed more food than the average man. It was fine during the USO tour; but here, in a war, where rations are scarce and everyone’s hungry, he can’t possibly ask for more than his share.

He walks further into the darkness, absently picking up a fallen stick. A twig snaps behind him and he spins around, stick brandished.

“Gonna shoot me with that?” Bucky teases, leaning casually against a tree. Its hard to make out details in the darkness, but Steve has been staring at Bucky his entire life and knows exactly what to look for. The tightness around his eyes since Azzano seems less pronounced, his smile a bit more natural.

Maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him or his heart is conjuring up images, but Bucky looks better. More like himself before he was shipped off.

Bucky pushes off the tree, his feet crunching softly on the forest ground. Steve wonders how he didn’t hear him approaching.

His stomach growls again, louder and obnoxious. That would explain it.

“Got something for you,” Bucky says, stopping in front of Steve. He fishes around in his jacket, before holding out his palm in a silent offering.

On it lies a silver covered, solid bar of chocolate.

“What-“ Steve stutters.

“It’s not much,” Bucky shrugs, “but maybe it’ll keep the motor in your belly shut long enough for us to get some sleep.”

Steve’s stomach rumbles again, in agreement.

“Buck, I can’t. This is yours.”

“You’re such a punk,” Bucky scowls. He pulls his hand back to rip open the wrapper.

“Where’d you even get it?”

“Found it in London. In an abandoned church.” He’s successfully freed the chocolate and the sweet scent hits Steve’s nose, making saliva gather in his mouth.

“London was months ago! You’ve been saving it.” Steve swallows thickly, crossing his arms against his chest. He refuses to take something so precious from Bucky.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Steven,” Bucky gripes. And then he’s mashing the chocolate bar against Steve’s lips, refusing to budge no matter how hard Steve tries to squirm away. “Eat the damn chocolate.”

“Fine,” Steve snaps, angrily biting off a chunk of the bar. “But I won’t enjoy it.”

“Fine by me,” Bucky grins. He looks annoyingly satisfied.

It was a lie. He does enjoy it, even more when Bucky agrees to having some as well.

And the worst part? The smug bastard knows it.

3.

Steve lets his head fall back against the door; his knees drawn to this chest as he sits inside his bedroom. He can hear Bucky moving in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing, a tap running, a clink of a glass, a few choice swear words.

He knows Bucky knows he’s awake as well. Knows that if one of them have a nightmare, they’re both up for the night.

Knows because for the past few months since Bucky’s been back, working at regaining control of himself, Steve had hovered by him every time he had a nightmare. Until a week ago, when their individual therapists thought that Steve was _coddling_ him and it would be best to give Bucky some space.

What to _they_ know?

Growing up, Bucky had never given him space when Steve asked for it. It feels a bit hypocritical and whole lot of painful to know that he should be out there with Bucky, and not in his room fighting every urge and instinct to do otherwise.

If he can’t be next to Bucky, in the kitchen, the least he can do is sit up with him.

Even if its behind a closed door.

He loses track of time, sitting there, ears straining to follow Bucky’s movements. He barely talks now, just another way that he’s changed. Quiet when he was talkative. Scowls when he was all smiles. Frozen when he was spontaneity.

But that’s fine. Steve is neither the man he once was. It just means he has to learn a new way of communication. A new way to understand Bucky based on the heaviness of his footsteps, the variation in his grunts, the shadows in his eyes.

It has been quiet for a long moment and Steve’s pulse spikes, worry clawing at his throat. He tries to tell himself to count to 10, to list reasons why he shouldn’t go out to check on Bucky –

Something slides under the door and rests beside him.

With shaky fingers, Steve picks up the foil wrapped bar, peeling back from where it has already been torn open, teeth marks bordering the bitten off corner. He presses his heels to his eyes, stopping the tears but failing to choke back the sound from his throat. He stares at the bar for a moment longer, before biting into it, letting the familiarity of chocolate coat his tongue.

He slides the bar back. He can hear the wrapper, followed by the soft thud of a head leaning against wood.

The bar slides back to him, another bite gone.

He had forgotten just how sweet chocolate could be. 

4.

It is amazing how much can change in just a year. Bucky is doing better. He’s not Bucky Barnes with chubby, smiley cheeks, or Sargent Barnes with the weight of war, or the Winter Soldier. He’s an amalgamation of all of them and something more, everything perfect and here - with Steve.

During Bucky’s path to recovery, he took to the future in ways Steve never had. Bucky’s motto was to try everything once. If something stuck, he knew he liked it.

Steve has fond memories of each failed experiment. 

Like the time Bucky had been enamoured by vibrant hair colours and dyed his hair a brilliant shade of green, before promptly dying it back. Steve swore he had torn a muscle laughing that day. He still hides his phone from Bucky to safeguard the one picture Steve managed to take.

Or the time Bucky wanted to try the 21st century version of dancing but found the swarm of bodies and flashing lights of clubs too much to handle. Steve had turned their apartment into a dance hall: he moved the furniture to the wall, turned the lights low, and had asked Jarvis to play the top 40 dance songs. The songs with heavy bass and sultry beats.

What Steve didn’t know, when he pulled Bucky to dance with him, was the modern version of dancing involved zero space between bodies and people moving against each other as they would have in bed. He still flushes when he thinks of holding onto Bucky for dear life, as Bucky rotated his hips into Steve’s, his head falling back against Steve’s shoulder, exposing the delicious expanse of his neck.

That experiment had failed when Steve had to abruptly pull away to care for sudden _needs_ in the bathroom.

What did stick was baking. Bucky loved the baking shows and would replicate their recipes, citing the therapeutic benefits of kneading dough and mixing ingredients. Bucky often smelled of fresh bread and warm sugar, which had soon become a scent Steve associated with home.

So, it’s absolutely no surprise to walk into their home to find Bucky seated on the kitchen floor, bowl secured between his crossed legs as he mixes up some batter. It smells pleasantly of chocolate.

“What you making?” Steve asks, sitting across from him on the floor.

“Caramel chocolate brownies.”

There are a few wisps of hair fallen lose from his bun and faint flour smudges high on his cheek. He looks serene and beautiful and Steve’s heart clenches.

“Wanna taste?” Bucky asks, focused on scraping the sides of the bowl.

Steve nods, tearing his eyes away from Bucky’s face. The metal arm is held away from the bowl, small smears of chocolate on his fingers. There’s barely enough for a taste, but Bucky has always been a bit finicky about his baking. Steve’s not going to throw a fuss now.

He leans forward, wrapping his lips around Bucky’s finger, tongue swirling to chase the chocolate. It’s delicious, even the tiniest bit he’s had, salt and sweet hitting his taste buds sharply. His eyes fall shut and he moans softly, sucking as much as he can, when he notices the sudden silence.

Steve opens his eyes. Bucky is staring at him with a slackened jaw. His eyes dart to the side where Bucky has the mixing spoon extended, a significantly bigger heaping of batter held out to taste.

Oh.

The spoon clatters into the bowl and Steve tracks its descent, watches as batter splatters up. He flickers his gaze back to Bucky and freezes at the intensity in his eyes.

“You’ve got some chocolate on your lip.” 

Steve pulls back, finally detaching his lips from Bucky’s metallic finger with an audible pop. Bucky’s eyes dilate further and Steve’s heart hammers at the sight.

He’s not sure who moves first, but its only fitting that their first kiss tastes like chocolate.

5.

Steve can’t remember being this frustrated or turned on in his _life_. But then again, he did think the same yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.

“Eyes on me, Stevie,” Bucky purrs, from where he’s perched on Steve’s dick, holding still. He’s been riding it for what feels like hours and Steve hasn’t been allowed to come. Or touch Bucky, his hands gripping the slats of the headboard. Steve is convinced he has never hated or loved Bucky as much as he does right now.

He thrusts his hips, to get Bucky to move again, do anything to give him some friction, some _relief._

Bucky grinds back hard, halting Steve’s straining hips, and its too much. The heat in the room, the sounds that Bucky’s making, the control he has over Steve. He’s going to come - he has to come.

“Buck,” Steve pleads.

“If you hold off for me, I have a treat for you. Do you want it?” Bucky asks sweetly, doing nothing to mask the smirk that’s stretched wide across his face.

Fuck, but does Steve love him.

He nods in earnest.

“Good,” Bucky approves, gifting him with the barest press of lips. He reaches behind him and pulls out a small, opaque jar. “Saw this the other day and thought of you.”

He twists the jar open and Steve catches the spicy scent of cocoa. Bucky dips his fingers into the jar. When his fingers come back out, they’re covered in –

“Body chocolate. Isn’t the future the best, Stevie?” And the bastard proceeds to coat his dick in liquid chocolate.

Steve’s brain short circuits at the sight and he has to shut his eyes if he’s going to have any chance of staving off his orgasm. He feels Bucky slip off his dick, weight shifting from his hips to settle on his chest, a metal finger pulling slightly at a peaked nipple. Steve’s hips arch of the bed, now that they are no longer being held down, except he thrusts into thin air. He whines, broken and desperate.

“Shh,” Bucky strokes warmed metal through his hair. “Open up, love. I know how hungry you are.”

Steve’s mouth falls open, starving. He whimpers as the first taste of chocolate hits his lips, tongue eagerly following to taste more. The second he closes his lips around the head of Bucky’s cock, the saltiness of Bucky’s precome and sweetness of the chocolate blend and he’s done, unable to hold back any longer.

His hips fly up, his dick erupts, and the only thing keeping him afloat is the taste of chocolate.

+1

When he was younger, Steve would look at his parents’ wedding picture, the one hung near the kitchen door. His Ma was dressed in white and his Pa in a blazer and tie. It was one of the two pictures they had of him. Steve would stare at it every day for years, imagining how he would grow up to be just as strong, just as big as his father. That he too would get married in a smart suit and tie, to a girl just as beautiful as his Ma.

He got some of that right. He did grow up big and strong, with a little help from a serum. He is dressed in a smart suit and tie. Black, with a crisp white shirt.

And he is marrying someone just as beautiful as his Ma.

Except he’s not dressed in white.

Bucky has on a steel grey suit that fits him so well, Steve has spent a few minutes just staring at him, trying to figure out if he got into the suit or if they stitched it around him.

He’s spent a lot of today staring at Bucky, getting lost in how happy and how lucky he is. When he first saw Bucky this morning, when they exchanged rings, when Bucky had wrapped Pepper and Nat in a group hug and only got away with it because well – he’s Bucky. And everyone loves him.

But he belongs to Steve and there’s a paper and matching rings that say so.

“That’s gross, man,” Sam startles him out of his staring. Again.

“What?”

“The way you’re looking at him. Cover your mouth, fix _that,”_ Sam waves in the general vicinity of Steve’s face.

“But he’s my _husband._ ” Steve grins, his chest filled with bubbles.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam grouses, but he’s got a dumb smile on his face a well. “Your _husband_ asked me to send you over. Apparently, there’s cake.”

Steve crosses the room to his Bucky – _his_ – and loops an arm around his waist, letting it sit gently on his hip. He kisses his cheek softly, feeling the barest hint of stubble. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky whispers, turning to look at him. And yeah, Sam’s right. If the look on his face resembles anything close to the pure adoration on Bucky’s, then they are a bit disgusting. And he gives zero fucks, because its his wedding day and he’s allowed to look stupidly in love.

“Cake?” Steve asks, nose brushing Bucky’s.

Bucky turns him around, where a layered cake of chocolate heaven sits before them. Metal covering flesh, together they slice into it with Thor singing an Asgardian song, mixed with Wanda’s Sokovian version of love. He can’t quite make out what Tony is trying to shout over the others. The message is still the same.

It’s a celebration of love.

And it tastes like chocolate, that Steve steals from Bucky’s lips.

But only after he feeds Bucky the first bite.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my first foray in Stucky <3  
> Come yell at me about their epic love [tumblr](https://backonefish.tumblr.com/)


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